Robert finished her drink. But she still didn't feel satiated.
She really needed to get her robes off. Her tail in particular was not too happy. She thought about what that angel said, that maybe she should poke a hole through it to allow it to move. She couldn't though. Advertising she had such a feature felt... wrong. Much like her eight breasts felt wrong.
She glanced at her front door. Feeling a little apprehensive she also put the latch on, to secure it. She then made sure all the windows were closed, just to be on the safe side. She was very grateful to the angels for saving her life, but it somewhat cemented that she really was just a frail weak girl. A target now, for all the hatred and ills in the world.
A devil was mankind's imagination of sin. To give it form, is to visualise it... to create an enemy out of something that... doesn't really exist. Those angels said they were not real angels... still the way they acted, the way they knew where to be, it was impossible not to at least consider the Lord was using them as His instrument in some way.
... so then, why not her?
She took off her robes. Her eight breasts fell into view. She glanced down ashamed at the sight of each supple, proud, curve. Her nipples hardened a little as she looked at them, sending a shiver down her spine and to the very tip of her tail. Looking at them she wondered if she needed to get a bra. She had no idea if they would even make something for this form... but her nipples were being rubbed quite a bit by her robe. It might also help conceal them. She didn't think anyone realised she had this. Though her top breasts being rather large certainly.. aided in that.
Extra breasts were once considered signs of witchcraft. Their milk to foster the demons that would visit them at night... the very thought made her shiver. Demons didn't exist.. but that she looked like the very image of her worst nightmare...
This was a bad day. She walked into the bathroom and turned on the bath out of habit. However looking at the water and her own hooves, she suddenly wondered just how would she get into the bath? Her hooves might break it. Biting her lip, she continued to run the water, feeling it running around her fingers. Even if the bath was too small, doing this ritualistically eased her mind somewhat. She smelled the soap bubbles as they calmed her down, making their wonderful colours in the water. The same colour as the new sun was now.
She stared at one bubble as if it were indeed the sun, and saw her own image inside the membrane. Why did she become a devil? If angels had a power of some kind of precognition... did she have any kind of ability? Was it to sow destruction, chaos... no matter what her true intention was? Thinking back on those white hooded people, she could believe it was possible. Her form would divide...
Father Maxwell has said he could quit. But the problem was, Robert never quitted. She wanted to know the Truth... She took her vow of celibacy and accepted a faith in God, that She will understand it one day. She was even clinging on to the hope that this form was one step towards the Truth. But if all she did as a devil-priestess was be offensive...
.. her bath was ready now. She turned off the tap as she reconsidered how to get into the bath. She went in back first, her strange legs dangling outwards. Her tail ended up caught on her backside making her wince. She adjusted her position again, allowing the tail to travel between her legs. This felt a little awkward, but a little more comfortable. She managed to position her body along the length of the bath, with her hooves pointed out of the bath. Her tail was nestled between her nether regions, which forced a bit of a blush on her cheeks.
The water soothed her irritated nipples, and she let out a sigh of relief. Her tail started to sway a little teasing her breasts. She looked at it with a measure of annoyance. Sometimes it had a mind of it's own, if she wasn't concentrating. Not that... what it did felt that bad. ... any more. She nestled the tail on the cleavage of each breast, finding that kept it fairly still as she proceeded to wash herself.
"God?" She asked softly to the air. "T-Thank you... for sending your..." Why did it hurt to say that? "Your... Angels... to aid me," She said softly. But that's as it was... they were His, she was not. Yet, did that mean God considered her worth saving? Perhaps if she could just... continue to make amends, maybe her outer body wouldn't matter? God always forgives...
... even the Devil.
Hiro couldn't believe it. His father- (or mother?) Was now a cyborg just like he was! Only... he had changed gender. She seemed to be strong- that she was armed indicated she was some kind of combatant build.
The young Cyborg had never considered that. Could their forms indicate some kind of purpose behind their builds? Otherwise having a weapon seemed like overkill on his father. Cyborgs however do not exist in an evolutionary sense... not exactly. Although one could argue, that technological advancement was an evolution in itself. Hiro should have felt dejected that as a cyborg, his father seemed better then he was. However he wasn't. He felt... hopeful. Maybe Hiro has simply not found what it is his own body is capable of. There is a reason why his process was not as optimal as a true artificial construct... There must be some philosophy behind his design.
... that meant, he was not an accident.
A little excitedly, he booted up his schematics again, to try and look for something behind his systems he had missed. He had a lot of sensory nodes, as well as various 'adaptive' programs. Unfortunately they could only be run on his own systems, given that an aspect of them existed in the organic nature of his brain.
"Where is my strength," He muttered, his artificial eye glowing. He was not scrap... he was something!
